Happy Memorial Day...

This greeting has always perplexed me. This is such a solemn Holiday. A remembrance of fallen heroes and family members that have passed away. It was always taken very seriously in our home when I was young and it had great meaning for our Family.

My family (years before I was born) was a three star family. That meant that three of my mother's brothers were in the service during the Second World War, Uncle Gene was a pilot in the Army Air Core, Uncle Chuck was in Patton's Army and died in France. My Uncle Pinkie was in the Navy and experienced the attack at Pearl Harbor. He was later killed in one of the Pacific battles near Guam in 1945.

Friends and family would arrive at our house early in the morning and we would all go to the various Cemeteries to visit our passed loved ones and then everyone would return to my Family's tiny four room house to visit and tell stories about our loved ones. That sounds like a somber day. But it wasn't...

My Aunts and Uncles and cousins would come back to the house and in no time flat we kids would run out to our orchard and plant flags under the old pear tree. It had really long, thick branches that spread out at odd angles, it was the oldest tree in the orchard and it was my climbing tree.

It was the first tree my Mother's parents planted when they purchased the five acres of gently sloping ground and built the small house where my family lived. I never knew my Grandparents but they were very alive to me because of all the stories my Parents, Aunts and Uncles told, not just on Memorial Day, but on every Holiday or visit.

My Grandparents had planted a medium sized Orchard and a Berry Patch at the back of our land. That's were all my cousins, friends and I played until it was time for "the feast".

My Dad and my Uncles would set out picnic tables and benches made out of concrete blocks for legs and planks for the tabletops and bench seats. Mom would break out all of her nicest tablecloths. I still remember helping her iron the tablecloths for days before any holiday. There were crisp white brocade ones, gingham ones that had red or blue and white checks. My favorite were the floral ones with cabbage roses and ivy.

My mother was a Caterer part-time for our Neighbors and Family. She did not disappoint the relatives with her picnic lunches. She would fry scrumptious chicken in her big cast iron skillets. We raised the Chicken's and my Uncle Jiggs, who was a Butcher, would dress them for us.

My Mom also made the worlds best potato salad. She would have molasses baked beans and pies and cakes of Devils Food and creamy white and whatever delights everyone else would bring. The Picnic tables were crowded with food, Relatives and good memories. We thanked God for the feast and the great abundance. This was America in the 1950's. We celebrated the day as a day of remembrance and a day of feast.

After the meal my Aunts and Uncles would take blankets down to the Pear Tree and get comfortably seated under it's protective branches around the flags. My Mother would bring down the family Bible as my Dad helped all the kids up into the Pear Tree.

We would sit straddle legged on the branches and listen as my Mother would read from the Bible. The front of the Bible had the Family history and as she read each name the others would start telling stories about them and so it went. The tapestry of my Family lives was laid out before us.

As kids those things seemed less important to us. The memories took second place to the pies and cakes, the playing and climbing. The climbing during the story time would bring quick reproach from the all the Moms who didn't want us to fall and break a leg or arm. We had a few of those over the years.

It seems odd to me today why my extended family doesn't hold to the traditions our Parents made for us. I don't remember when the gatherings stopped. I haven't heard from anyone in my family today or this weekend, except my husband and my sister-in-law, they live with me. In awhile I will pick up the phone and call some of them. Many won't be home. Many won't want to talk for long and I will be left...with my Memorial Day memories for another year.

Thank God for those memories. Thank God for my family. Thank God for our Nation and all the Heroes and Patriots that have died for her. I pray the the Lord keeps our Nation strong and safe but I feel like something is missing in America today.

I feel that God has called me for a higher purpose at this point in my life. I would never have become an activist if it were not for this President. He is a man who has different views and aspirations for this nation than I do. I pray for him everyday and I hope God lifts the cloud over his eyes so he can see the real damage he is doing to our country.

The Tea Parties and the 9-12 Project are a real asset to America. Maybe not to the people who were sent to represent us in Washington D.C. They aren't doing their jobs. They don't want to hear from us. But I bet they are getting our message. I, We will no longer accept the status quo. There is too much Government in too few hands with too many bureaucrats making too many decisions about how we live our lives.

I pray that these men and women in Washington D.C. won't trash the legacy of our War dead and our past Generations. We must not let the final chapter of America be written as an epitaph for another Memorial Day.

Stand Up! Remember what America was and is; a light in a very dark world, with liberty and justice for all.

God Bless all Patriots...living or dead.